


Burdened And Cursed. But is it Just That?

by crazyskullz1021



Category: Original Work
Genre: Angst, Empathy, Kinda, Other, little story, original - Freeform, poem
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-06-10
Updated: 2016-06-10
Packaged: 2018-07-14 04:02:01
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 306
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7152608
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/crazyskullz1021/pseuds/crazyskullz1021
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>What is one supposed to do when they constantly ache?<br/>Born with the terrible curse of being a yearning empath..</p>
            </blockquote>





	Burdened And Cursed. But is it Just That?

**Author's Note:**

> Just a little something..  
> kinda random I suppose, but appropriate.

She wakes up every day,  
feeling inspired by everything she sees,  
She eats her usual breakfast,  
in her usual spot,  
with her usual company.  
Perfectly content;  
pet the dogs until they're smiling and drifting off,  
soak in the sun and absorb the atmosphere,  
clean and organize until the mind is clear.  
Now that that is all done,  
she's left sitting thinking of what the day may hold.  
Wanting to do and make so many things,  
but instead she unsurprisingly settles for the dull.  
As she does whatever,  
she thinks of all the calls and pulls;  
So many little things,  
yet they have the weight of bricks tied to feet.  
She sees people throughout her day,  
listens,  
watches,  
experiences.  
Wishes,  
hopes,  
yearns.  
Just another person she'll never know or get to meet.  
Adds to the list.  
It's ever-growing,  
toppling over,  
strangling,  
and suffocating.  
The tedious has become overly tedious.  
To watch through text and screens is no longer enough;  
shut up in the all too crippling comfortable.  
Need to breathe,  
to experience,  
to go out,  
for the first time.  
But the confines pull at every edge and surface,  
gripping until you cannot pull in fear of it to rip you apart.  
She surrenders,  
to scared to put up a fight.  
So she sits at her window,  
a cushion and blanket made comfy for the long nights always spent,  
thinking and pondering,  
aching,  
hurting,  
longing,  
so incredibly strong that it takes the wind out, and tears come streaming forward.  
She goes to bed,  
exhausted with another day spent wanting again.  
Feeling oh so solitary once again.  
Unsatisfying dreams occupy in the mean time,  
twisting and turning,  
up on a cloud,  
but falling at the same time.  
She wakes up,  
feeling inspired by everything she sees,  
She eats her usual breakfast,  
in her usual spot,  
with her usual company.


End file.
